


Family Ties

by Bunnywest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chris finds out about Kate/Derek, Chris helps, Explicit Sexual Content, Gerard finds out about Kate/Derek, Gun Violence, M/M, Murder Husbands, No Allison Argent, Not Canon Compliant, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage, Revenge, Serious Injuries, Setting people on fire, Threats of Violence, no Victoria Argent, peter gets his revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Peter vows silently (because really, that’s the only way he does anything nowadays), that no matter how long it takes, he’ll recover enough to get out of here, and he’ll destroy every last person who had anything to do with the fire, and he’ll make sure there isn’t an Argent left alive.It takes him six years to keep his word.





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiscontentedWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscontentedWinter/gifts).



> Winter and I were talking, and the question was asked-"can you imagine when Gerard found out about Kate and Derek, though?" Which led to the question - "I wonder if she ever did tell her daddy about that?"   
> Which led to "Can you imagine Peter spilling the beans to Chris, and Chris wanting to burn the world for his lover?"
> 
> Which led to this. I wrote it, and it got kinda dark, and now y'all are stuck with this very violent revenge fic, which has a definite Tarantino vibe to it. Fair warning, Peter is ruthless in this, and so is Chris.   
> Don't say I didn't warn you.

 

_Peter lays in the bed, voiceless and motionless, all the while screaming with rage and pain beneath the surface. His body has betrayed him. He should be healing, be tracking down their attacker, finding who killed most of his family and wreaking his revenge. Instead he’s frozen in place, mouth slightly open, one eye milky and sightless. His mind, though, is still a whirlwind of activity, as he relives again and again the terror of being trapped in the burning house, unable to escape. Whoever did this knew about werewolves, knew enough to ring the house with mountain ash to prevent their escape. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out  - Chris Argent is behind this, he must be. It’s all too painfully obvious now what the plan was. The shy glances from Chris, the hesitant, furtive courting that led to their clandestine affair, it was nothing more than a front, an excuse to lower Peter’s defenses, get information out of him. Peter wracks his brain even as he stares vacantly, certain that he didn’t ever tell Chris about the tunnels, but assaulted by doubt, because how else did the killer know to block those exits? The betrayal’s made worse by the fact that Peter had been stupid enough to believe Chris’s whispered promises of running away together to start a new life, had allowed himself to develop feelings. He imagines it now, Chris going back to his bastard father and laughing over Peter’s confessions of love._

_He sits and stares, and swears that if he ever sees Chris Argent again, he’ll gut him like a fish._

_He spends a month like that in the hospital, until one day Laura comes to see him. She explains in halting tones that she and Derek are leaving. She says she knows he probably can’t hear her, but just in case, she needs him to know they aren’t abandoning him, not really. It’s just that it’s too hard staying. Derek doesn’t sleep, she tells him, and when he does, he wakes screaming and refuses to talk to her for the rest of the day. They’re putting Peter in care, and moving to New York. She’ll send for him as soon as she can, she says, and Peter doesn’t even think she’s aware of the tiny blip in her heartbeat._

_He sits and stares and drools. She leaves._

_Two days later, it’s Derek who comes through the door, looking guilt-ridden and apologetic, clicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lock. For one terrible moment Peter thinks Derek’s decided to put him out of his misery, and there’s a tiny part of him that rejoices, but Derek makes no move to slash his throat or smother him with a pillow. Instead, he sits next to the bed, cradling his head on his arms, and cries himself hoarse.  Peter watches and drools and doesn’t so much as blink, as slowly, between sobs and in half formed sentences and gestures, Derek confesses to his uncle about his involvement with Kate Argent. He tells how she flirted with him, told him how handsome he was, how mature. How she let him touch her, do things to her that Derek had never dreamed of. And then, once she had him hanging off her every word, how she’d teased the information out of him, one sexual encounter at a time, until she had what she needed. “It was her, Uncle Peter, but it was me, too. I - I killed the pack. And after, she rang me and laughed, told me to watch my back. That’s why we’re leaving.” All the air leaves Derek as he says it, like the confession has knocked the wind out of him. “I had to tell someone, even if you can’t hear me.”_

_Peter can hear him just fine, and he blazes with rage and the need for revenge, even as he sits and stares. He’s always been clever, and his mind can still fit the pieces together just fine, even if his body’s useless. Chris must have been the first attempt to get information. When Peter was too wary to tell him what he wanted to know, Gerard Argent sent his daughter in to fuck a mere child, just so he could destroy their pack._

_Peter vows silently (because really, that’s the only way he does anything nowadays), that no matter how long it takes, he’ll recover enough to get out of here, and he’ll destroy every last person who had anything to do with the fire, and he’ll make sure there isn’t an Argent left alive._

_It takes him six years to keep his word._

 

* * *

It's six years before Peter wakes up. It’s a full moon, and his curtains aren’t drawn, the task neglected by his nurse. He’s lying motionless in his bed, eyes staring straight ahead, when he feels the moonlight wash over him, and somewhere deep inside, something snaps back into place, and just like that, he’s back _._ It’s like a wave washing over him, all-encompassing and powerful, and suddenly he finds his hands clenched in fists of rage, hears a low growl coming from his throat. The sound’s harsh, voice rusty from disuse, but it’s the first sound he’s made in six years, and he glories in it.

He slowly, carefully, pushes back the blankets, breathing heavily, not quite able to believe that this is happening. His body moves when he tells it to, and he stands and staggers into the bathroom with a sound that’s half laugh, half sob. He stares at himself in the mirror. His hair’s far too long, and there are ugly, shiny scars down the side of his face. He hopes he can fix that, given a little more time. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, and when he opens them, they glow gold, although one is still a little dimmer than the other. He lets his fangs drop, and it’s like coming home. He smiles toothily at himself in the mirror. He dresses himself and leaves the home without a word to anyone.

Time to go kill an Argent.

* * *

 

Chris startles awake, and it takes hm a moment to place what dragged hm out of his sleep. His phone’s ringing. He glances at the screen as he picks it up, but there’s no caller ID. It’s not uncommon in his line of work, so he answers with a sleep roughened, “Argent.”

“Now there’s a voice I’ve missed.” Chris blinks, holds the phone out from his ear and looks at it for a second.

“Peter?” He can hear the shock evident in his voice. “You’re awake?”

“It’s, shall we say, a recent development. Of course, you were the first one I called.” Peter’s voice takes on a teasing note. “Care to catch up, Christopher?”

Chris’s mind is racing. Their affair was secret of course, because of their families, but it was no less real for all that. Chris cared deeply for Peter, loved him if he's honest, and mourned him deeply after the fire, unable to let go. He never thought he’d hear his voice again. Chris has fought down the impulse to go and sit by Peter’s bed, stroke his hair and whisper _I love you_ in his ear more times than he can say over the years. But that would have meant putting Peter back on Gerard’s radar, and Chris wouldn’t put it past his father to shoot someone in a coma - he suspects that his family don't put as much stock in The code as they like to make out. No, better to stick to his carefully crafted routine of monthly phone calls to Peter’s care facility, playing the concerned nephew checking on his uncle’s health, asking if there’s been any change.

There never has been.

Yet here Peter is, on the other end of the line, seemingly well and awake and whole and Chris wants, no, _needs_ to see him, more than air. “Want me to come collect you?”

Peter laughs softly. “Please. Like I didn’t leave that place as soon as I could walk. No, I’ll come to you. Still at the same address?”

“Yeah.” Chris could never bring himself to move out of the humble apartment, unwilling to give up the memories of his time with Peter. “Come over.”

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” Peter ends the call, and Chris closes his eyes and lets himself bask in the knowledge that Peter’s come back to him. Maybe Chris will get the chance to tell him how he feels after all, if he can just screw up the nerve. The thought gets him moving. He doesn’t know how long till Peter gets here, so he quickly changes the bedlinen, because time with Peter always ends up with them in bed together, coma or no. He can’t keep the smile off his face at the mental image of Peter sprawled naked across his sheets.

It’s been a long time coming, but Peter’s back.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter stands outside the door and takes a deep breath, willing himself to be calm. This won’t work if Chris suspects anything. He knocks.   _Rat tat a tat tat._ Shave and a haircut _,_ just like they’ve always used. It started as a joke, and quickly became a habit. Chris completes the sequence with a _tap tap_ before opening the door. Peter stands there, hands in his pockets, doing his best to act like he hasn’t been gone for six years, like he doesn’t have a twisted snarl of scars running up the side of his face, like it isn’t two a.m. and he hasn’t just bolted from a care facility under cover of night.

Chris opens his arms wordlessly. Peter hesitates for just a second before stepping inside, letting Chris pull him into a hug. He stands there and allows himself to be held for a moment before pulling back. Chris is staring at his face, taking in the scars probably, and Peter feels the need to apologise. “I’m not as pretty as I once was,” he offers, and it hurts him to admit it, because he’s a vain creature at heart. “I don’t know if the scars will heal.”

Chris looks at him with something like wonder on his face. “You think I care how you look? Peter, _you’re back_. You’re right here. I never thought I’d see you again, but here you are.” His voice is hoarse with emotion as he drags Peter closer and holds him tight, and Peter lets his arms wrap around Chris and squeeze him back. It feels just as good as Peter remembers, and it takes all his strength to remember that it was all fake, a lie to target his family, because he wants so badly for it to have been real.

Chris runs a hand down his cheek on the unmarked side of his face, and then he reaches for the scars, hesitating. “Go ahead,” Peter finds himself saying. He barely feels the touch, the whisper of fingertips against thickened scar tissue, but he sees the pain in Chris’s eyes, and he’s glad. Peter _wants_ Chris to see what his family did, wants him to feel regret. He places a hand atop Chris’s, holding him there. “This is me, now.”

And then suddenly Chris is pulling him in for a kiss, hot and desperate, and Peter’s kissing him back, because whatever else happened between them, this, the physical part of it, was always perfect. It wasn’t part of his plan, but Peter decides, then and there, that he’ll let himself have this, that he’ll pretend, one last time, that it was all real. They don’t speak, stumbling down the hall to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing as they go. Peter presses Chris back against the mattress, and Chris gives him one of those impossible smiles of his and lets his legs fall open lewdly, an unspoken invitation.

The lube's in exactly the same spot it’s always been, tucked in the top drawer, three inches to the left, and it‘s odd to think that after all this time, something like that has remained unchanged.  Peter doesn’t think too much about it though, too busy working his lubed up fingers into Chris’s body, savoring the heat and the tightness. Chris lets out a grunt, and says, “Easy, baby. Been a while.”

Peter swallows down his response, doesn’t ask Chris, _what, no young wolves to seduce lately?_ There’ll be time for accusations later. For now, he slows his movements, and feels some of the tension leave Chris’s body. He looks down at Chris, naked and hard and gorgeous as always, and fights the urge to cover his scars, to shy away. This is what he is now.  And Chris doesn’t seem to mind, casting admiring glances his way, so Peter shrugs off the feelings of inadequacy, and sets about making Chris squirm with pleasure as he expertly teases his prostate.

It’s not difficult for Peter to reduce Chris to a begging mess – he knows the other man’s body almost as well as he once knew his own. Once he deems Chris ready, he doesn’t waste any time, slicking up his cock and thrusting in, groaning at how tight it still is. Chris always did have a beautifully fuckable ass. Their bodies start to move in sync, the old rhythms coming back to them unbidden, like the words to a favorite song that are summoned back upon hearing the first notes, long after they were thought to be forgotten.

The plush feel of Chris wrapped around him, the pull and drag of flesh as he pounds in mercilessly, the sounds Chris makes as he drags a hand over his own cock, Peter remembers all of it. He closes his eyes and loses himself, savors the way his nerve endings sing and his cock throbs and how Chris wraps his arms around him and pulls him close and whispers _how fucking good_ it is. Peter can feel his balls drawing up close, knows this won’t take long. He only has a moment to regret that his will be the last time he gets to do this, before Chris clenches his ass around him and it’s too much, sending him over the edge as he comes with a shout.

Chris follows seconds later, grunting as he does so. Peter catches his breath for a minute before he pulls out and rolls to the side, his entire body still alight with pleasure. He lets himself melt into the mattress and enjoy the afterglow, just for a while. Chris turns his head for a kiss, the same as he always has, and Peter wishes he could let Chris live, really he does. But in the back of his head, a voice whispers ‘ _he wanted your family dead,_ ’  and there's no way Peter can forgive that.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter thinks briefly of killing Chris in his sleep, of showing him that small mercy, but his need for vengeance is too strong. He wants Chris to suffer, and his ego demands that Peter let Chris know that he figured it out. So he waits until Chris is relaxed against him, the little spoon just like always, before he lets his claws drop and presses them against Chris’s throat. He senses the other man’s heartbeat pick up, smells the rush of terror, and smiles mirthlessly. “Tell me, Christopher. When exactly did you realise your plan to get access to the pack house wasn’t working, and enlist your sister to fuck a child instead?”

Chris stiffens at the words. “What the fuck?”

Peter lets the tip of one claw sink in, and a single drop of blood wells up. “Don’t act stupid. I figured it out. I’ve had plenty of time, after all, and not much else to do. So tell me if I have it right. You were meant to seduce me, then gain information about the tunnels in and out of the pack house. But I wasn’t as forthcoming as you wanted, so you got sick of waiting, and recruited Kate instead.”

“What? What tunnels?”  Chris makes a move to roll over, but Peter holds him in place effortlessly.

“Oh, come now. No need to be coy.  I should have known from the start, really. As if an Argent would ever want a Hale.” Peter lets out a bitter laugh.

“Peter, what the hell are you talking about?”  Chris is breathing quickly, but something’s…wrong. Peter expected Chris to smell of guilt or remorse, for there to be an uptick to his heartbeat, but none of that happens. All that he’s getting from Chris is confusion.  A tiny seed of doubt starts to niggle, and Peter loosens his grip, just enough for Chris to roll and face him.

“Are you saying you think I slept with you as some sort of…what, plot against your pack?”

“Exactly. You wanted us dead,” Peter accuses.

 Chris shakes his head.“You can’t really think that!”

Peter keeps a hand hovering close to Chris’s throat, but the seed of doubt throws roots, starts to blossom into second thoughts. “Why not? You’re a hunter, after all.”

Chris looks genuinely betrayed. He pulls Peter into a rough embrace, holding him close, heedless of the threat. His heartbeat’s as steady as a rock when he whispers, "You dumb bastard. Why the hell would I want you dead when I’m in love with you?"  

The voice clamoring for _revengerevengerevenge_ in the back of Peter’s head falls silent long enough for him to take in what Chris just said. He stares for a moment, before dumbly repeating, “You’re in love with me.”

Chris gently takes Peter’s hand in his own, twining their fingers together, heedless of the claws, and Peter allows it. “I’m in love with you, baby. Always have been. Always will be.” Chris turns clear blue eyes on him, completely sincere, and in that moment, Peter totally and utterly believes him.  Chris wasn’t using him. It was real. That knowledge is pushed to the back of him mind for later though, because something doesn’t add up.

“But – Kate?” Peter growls in frustration, because the pieces don’t _fit._ He thought he had this all figured out, he had a plan, and that plan was to rip out the throats of his attackers, and now, after all this time, he has it _wrong?_

Chris sits up in bed, facing him. “What about Kate? What does she have to do with this?”

Peter stares. “You really don’t know.”

Chris cocks his head, clearly confused. “Peter, please. Talk sense.”

Peter takes a deep breath. “The fire wasn’t an accident. It was set by hunters.”

Chris shakes his head vehemently. “No. It would violate the code. No decent hunter would dare.”

Peter almost feels sorry for Chris. He doesn’t know what the rest of his family is like, and now Peter’s the one who has to tell him. His anger against the rest of the Argents flares hot and bright for a moment.  

“Kate’s the one who set the fire. And she got into the tunnels by seducing Derek, convincing him to tell her everything, all the escape tunnels, all the exits. She strung him along by his dick and he damn near drew her a map. Derek confessed to me when he thought I couldn’t hear him.”

Chris looks frankly horrified. “But Derek would have been what, fifteen? He was just a kid!”

“Exactly. Your bitch sister raped a minor and killed my family, and now I’m going to make her pay.”

“No, you’re not.” Chris's tone is determined, but Peter won't be stopped.

“I’ve been planning this for years. Don’t get in my way, Christopher. It won’t end well for you.”

Chris’s expression grows cold. His eyes burn into Peter, blazing with barely concealed fury. “No, I meant you’re not going to do it alone. I always knew Kate was a cold bitch, but this? This is unforgivable. We take her down together.”

Peter looks at Chris, feels the pressure in his chest ease the tiniest bit. Chris isn't lying, and Peter gets to keep him. He lets his lip curl up the tiniest bit. Not a smile, not with what they’re discussing, but something. “You believe me.”

Chris holds his gaze. “You’re a lot of things Peter, but you’ve never been a liar. And some things Kate’s said over the years suddenly make more sense. I’d believe it.” They look at each other silently for a moment, and Peter gives a tiny nod.

“We do it together.”

 

* * *

 

 

It takes them two weeks. They argue back and forth over some parts of it, and there are a few things they have to take care of first. But finally, they’re ready.

Chris makes the call to his father. He tells Gerard that Peter Hale’s awake and has disappeared from the care facility, but that Chris knows where to find him. Gerard reacts exactly as they thought he would. “He’s dangerous,” his father growls down the phone.  Chris thinks, but doesn't say, that just this once, his father's right. “ He needs to be put down. I’m on my way with Kate.”

 

* * *

 

 

The SUV pulls onto the dirt track leading into the preserve and the lights go out. The car parks, waiting for him just like Chris said it would. His father opens the driver’s door. “Christopher, why the cloak and dagger? You said you’ve tracked down Hale - why not just take us to him?” Gerard demands from the driver’s seat. He turns his head as he speaks, only to find himself facing the muzzle of Chris’s gun.

Peter darts out of the trees and pulls open the passenger door, pointing his own weapon at Kate. ”Well, that would have spoiled the surprise, wouldn’t it?’ he says brightly, and there’s a slightly manic edge to his smile. “And we have so many surprises for you tonight, old man. So many.”

Kate tries to get her hand on her weapon, but the click of Peter releasing the safety is loud in her ear. “Oh, I don’t think so, Katie-kate. Move and I’ll blow your brains out, and you’ll never have the chance to explain to daddy here exactly _how_ you found out about the tunnels under the Hale house. Because, well. You’ll be dead.”

Chris produces a length of rope and wraps it swiftly round Gerard, anchoring him to his seat, and Peter does the same to Kate. Gerard  struggles fruitlessly, but gets nowhere. He looks from Chris to Peter and back again. “What the hell is this, Christopher? Why haven’t you cut him in half yet? You know it’s only a matter of time before he goes feral!”

“Peter and I are together. And I’m helping him avenge his family’s murder.” Gerard opens his mouth to speak, but Chris cuts him off. “Kate set the Hale fire, did you know that?” Chris stares at Gerard, and the old man’s silence speaks volumes.

Chris looks at his sister. “So it’s true.”

“They deserved to die, they were _abominations_ ,” Kate snarls out. She attempts to stare Peter down. “And you? I _knew_ I should have smothered you in your sleep. But who knew you’d get so lively? Last I heard, you were a drooling, catatonic wreck.” Peter shoots her through the kneecap. She shrieks loudly, slumping down in her seat.

“Shhh, Katie. The adults are talking,” Peter tells her, and his smile has far too many teeth. He thinks vaguely that he probably shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as he did, but his life’s held so little of note in the last six years, he decides screw it, he’ll take his pleasure where he can find it.

Gerard looks apoplectic with rage. “Christopher? What is this? It’s bad enough you’re a sexual deviant -don’t tell me your practices include bestiality as well? Sleeping with a werewolf? You’re a disgrace to the Argent name!” Gerard’s shaking in his seat, whether from anger or fear, Peter can’t tell. He doesn’t much care, either.

Chris gives his father a sad smile. “The god damned _family name_. It always was more important than your actual family. It’s why you never could accept that I was gay, even when you couldn’t beat it out of me. If you really want to talk about deviant practices though, you should talk to Kate. Ask your shining star, the Most Precious Argent,  about the time she raped a werewolf teenager repeatedly to get information.”

Gerard bristles at the accusation. “This is nonsense! Kate would never sully her reputation with such filthy practices! Tell him, Kate!”

Peter chimes in with a brittle laugh. “Yes Katie, please do. Please tell your dear father how you spread your legs like a bitch in heat for my fifteen-year old nephew, and then why don’t you tell Daddy how after you’d finished whoring yourself out to him, after you let him fuck you till he’d spilled all the family secrets just like he spilled his seed in your filthy human cunt, you set my _whole fucking family on fire_?”  His voice is a roar now, all pretense of civility gone, and Kate is wide eyed and pale.

She looks wildly from Chris to her father, trapped. Gerard’s face is a picture of disgust. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t lower yourself to rut with beasts, Kate. No Argent has ever lain with a monster!” he pleads, his expression twisting into a grotesque imitation of parental concern.

_“I did what I had to do!”_ Kate screams. “ _They were animals and they deserved to die!”_

Gerard goes pale. “I don’t believe it. I taught you better than that.”

Chris lets out a mirthless snort. “You don’t care that she killed an entire werewolf family, but god forbid she fucks one of them?” He turns to Peter. “You were right. He needs to die as well.”

“I told you, sweetheart,” Peter says. “He must have known about the fire. Just not the fucking.”  They both catch the movement as Gerard tugs at his ropes, trying to get away. Peter shoots him first, straight through the left shoulder. Chris shoots him through the right.  Gerard’s body slams back against the car seat from the impact of the bullets, and he cries out in pain. Peter gives a satisfied nod. “Wouldn’t want you going anywhere, not before the main event.”

“Main event? What main event?” Kate’s managed to raise her head from where she’s been half - curled around her injured leg. She has blood in her hair, and her eyes are wide with terror. She’s shaking.

Peter leans in until his face is mere inches from hers. “What did I say, Katie? _Keep. Quiet_.” He shoots her again, in the shoulder this time. “There,” he says, feeling distinctly satisfied. “Now you match Daddy.”  He frowns. “Although actually…”

Two bullets and two agonised screams later, Peter nods as he surveys their new injuries. “ _Now_ , you match.”

Chris shakes his head. “Peter. Enough.”  Peter turns and frowns, but then he sees what Chris is holding out. “Just get it done. They’re not worth our time.”

Peter takes the item from Chris with a nod. “If you say so, sweetheart.” He turns back to his victims. “Speaking of matches…”  He rattles the box, sees their faces go pale as they realize what’s about to happen, and thinks _Good. See how you like it._

Gerard tries to appeal to Chris one last time, . “Son, if you do this, you’ll be a disgrace to the name of Argent! Think about that!”

Chris retrieves a gas can from his vehicle and douses the car liberally with it, face impassive. “It would only be a disgrace if I got caught. And if Kate can burn an entire pack and get away with it, surely we can manage the two of you. The Argent name dies today. Kate’s already disgraced it, and I’ve given it up.”

“You can’t just _give it up_. It’s who you are!” Gerard sneers.

“I can, and I have.” Chris turns to Peter. “You wanna tell him, baby?”

“Believe me, I’d love to.” Peter steps right up close to Gerard and whispers in his ear, savoring the stink of terrorsweat and freshly spilled urine rolling off the old man. “Tell me, Gerard, have you met my _new husband_ , Mr Christopher Hale? We got married in Vegas, and I fucked him for three days straight while we planned this. I soaked him in the scent and the seed of _Hale_ , and he loved every minute of it. He’s going to take the bite. Die thinking about _that,_ you revolting, intolerant old piss stain.”

Gerard shrieks in impotent rage at the news, and Peter’s smile widens. Kate starts screaming abuse as well, calling Chris a traitor, an animal, a dirty dogfucker, so Peter shoots her through the throat, because he can. Her cries are cut off with a wet gurgle. ”Don’t talk about my husband like that, bitch. I might get upset, and do something you’ll regret.”

 

He takes four steps back from the vehicle, lights a match, and flicks it into Kate’s gasoline drenched hair. He flicks two more in quick succession into the car, and suddenly the whole thing's ablaze.  Peter can hear Kate and Gerard  screaming in agony, while they struggle to escape. It's music to his ears. Peter shoots them both a few more times, just to make sure they don’t go anywhere.

“Should have kept your mouth shut, Katie,” Peter singsongs, and settles back to watch them die.  

Chris’s arm is heavy across his shoulders, and Peter can smell the salt of his husband’s tears, but they’ve done their grieving over their families, both of them. They fought over Gerard’s fate, but once Chris realized that Peter was right, that his father must have known about the Hale fire, and once he’d ranted and raged about the unfairness of it all, he’d never wavered in his decision to help Peter exact the perfect revenge. It was Chris who, in the still, small hours before dawn, had turned to Peter, his eyes ablaze with passion like some kind of avenging angel, and said, “They should _burn_ , for what they did.”

Peter knows he’s made his peace with it.

Neither of them speaks, and they stand there watching, not looking away until the SUV's burnt down to nothing but a pile of ash and bones. Peter buries his head against Chris’s chest and breathes deeply. For the first time in years, he feels free from the burden of revenge. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Chris just holds him tighter.

Peter kept his word. There isn’t an Argent left alive.

 

* * *

 

 

It amazing how good life can be when you break those toxic family ties, they muse. But they also agree that maybe it’s a good idea to stay away from Beacon Hills for a while. Maybe even a year or two, just until the dust settles.

They hold hands as they board the plane for Europe, Mr P and C Hale, just another couple going on their honeymoon.


End file.
